


The Two Ls

by estelraca



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Growing Up, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: Victor's life has always been a little bit different, but his perspective on those differences changes as he gets older.  Snapshots of Victor through the years, his life and his loves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001paperboxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/gifts).



> This was written for the Fight Back Fic Auction, for 1001paperboxes. The prompt was for 500 words from Victor's point of view. Me being me this is much more than 500 words, though I did at least keep the word limit for each individual section. I know that Word of God for the series says this is a world with no homophobia, but I find that much less compelling and realistic, so there are more real-world dynamics with regards to sexuality in this.
> 
> I'm continuing to offer fics for the Fight Back Fic Auction, so if you like this or any of my other works please consider looking me up on Tumblr or talking to me here about it.

_The Two Ls_

_Life_ is being seven years old and already far and away the best skater on the ice.

Victor doesn't understand why he's better than the others. He does his best to help them, to explain what it is that he's doing to cause such a flurry among their coaches and everyone else who comes to watch them. Some of them improve a bit, but no one manages to approach his grace and certainty.

"He was born for the ice."

Victor's not sure when the first time he heard that sentiment was, but it's repeated, over and over, until he knows that it must be true. He _understands_ the ice. He works well with it, his feet seeming to instinctively know where they need to go to get the desired effect. He has always been graceful and certain of himself and his body, and that only seems to be magnified when the ground beneath him is slick and cold.

"He's not afraid of anything."

He goes through two coaches when he's seven—not because they dislike working with him, but because they keep passing him along to those who are 'more qualified'. All of them seem to wonder at how little fear he shows when learning or practicing. Victor could have told them if they asked that he has nothing to fear from the ice, that it's far more forgiving and understanding than most people seem to be, but no one asks him. They just tell him not to copy the moves of those in more advanced classes because his body isn't ready for it yet, and sigh in frustration when he continues to try anyway.

"He could really be something special."

There's more certainty to the words every time Victor hears them. He doesn't understand exactly what they mean, but he knows it's a good thing. His skating is different from most others, and he should be proud of that. He _is_ proud of that, he supposes—he likes it when people watch him and praise him and think he's done something well.

Mainly he just loves the skating, though. There is something simple and beautiful about the rhythms, the motions, the rink, the crowds—he _loves_ the crowds at competitions, and they seem to love him.

He's not quite eight when his mother sits him down and asks him what will be the most important question of his life. Victor doesn't know it at the time, of course. You never know when the questions are asked and answered which will matter and which won't.

"Do you want to pursue skating seriously? As a career? As a..." His mother squeezes his hands gently. "They think you could be really good. Professionally good. Maybe even Olympic type good."

Victor considers the question carefully. "Will it mean I get to skate more?"

His mother smiles, brushing hair away from his eyes. "Yes."

Victor grins. "Then of course the answer's yes!"

His mother sighs.

The next day Victor's training begins in earnest.

XXX

_Love_ is the first and last time Victor is involved in a Valentine's Day celebration with other children his own age. The holiday is still new to the country, and Victor overhears snippets of adults arguing about whether it should be celebrated or not, but for him and the rest of the kids in his class any excuse to get treats is a good one.

He has fun making little notes to go along with the bags of cookies that his mother helped him bake and wrap. Though he doesn't like all of the kids in his class—he's not sure _anyone_ could like _everyone—_ he at least gets along well with the majority of them. He has no doubt he'll do well when it comes to collecting as well as giving treats, and he isn't disappointed.

He receives his first two kisses that day. The first is from Nika, and happens in front of two-thirds of the class, when she gives him the present that she made. She is the prettiest girl in class—Victor knows because everyone says so. She is also kind, and Victor has enjoyed talking to her sometimes, and working with her when they're paired off.

Should he have been prepared for something more because of that? He likes surprising people, but he doesn't like being taken by surprise, and he wants to try to keep it from happening often.

She blushes after she kisses him. It wasn't a big kiss. It was just a little press of her lips to the corner of his mouth, less pressure than a fly would make. It still causes their classmates to whoop and yell and start singing songs about what their future together will be.

"Tease all you want!" Nika tosses her hair back and glares at the ringleader of the singing. "But Victor and I _are_ going to get married, so there."

Everyone quiets down a little bit at that, watching Victor expectantly. They're waiting for a response, a performance, and Victor never disappoints an audience.

Taking Nika's hand in his, he kisses it gently. "Of course we will."

The teacher breaks up the ruckus after that, sending them all back to their seats, and Victor is glad to have some time to think.

The second kiss is at lunch. Ignat comes to find him where Victor is hiding, trying to avoid any repeats of the Valentine's exchange. He settles down in Victor's cramped little corner, and takes his hand gently. After a minute or two, during which neither of them speaks, Ignat lifts Victor's hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. "When you and Nika get married... make sure to invite me to the wedding, all right?"

Victor nods, at a loss for words. His hand seems to tingle and burn more than his mouth ever did.

The family moves soon after, taking Victor to where better coaches are, and for a little bit _life_ gives him a chance to step away from _love_.

XXX

_Life_ is being a seventeen year old superstar.

Everyone in the community knows his name. His routines are picked over, analyzed, copied, parodied. People _outside_ the community know his name. He's Victor Nikiforov, and he's going to win Russia fame and glory.

He gets away with things he wouldn't have been able to if he wasn't so damn good at what he does. He keeps his hair long for three years, playing up the androgynous look that it gives him, thriving at the threshold of the forbidden. If he weren't so good, they would question why he wants to do this. If he weren't so good, they would want him to play the prince more than the princess.

Because he's good, he gets to be what _he_ wants. He gets to push the envelope in presentation, and they love him for it.

"You're cocky." Yakov shakes his head as he watches Victor work on the base choreography for his routine. "And you're going to set your own tail on fire one day."

"That's all right." Victor smiles at his coach. "I know that you'll be there to throw water on me."

Yakov gives a little snort and walks away. If he didn't have faith in Victor and what Victor is doing, he wouldn't have done that, so Victor continues on.

He has everything at his fingertips right now. His body is at its peak—the jumps that were forbidden to him for a frustratingly long time are now the cornerstones of his routines. He has a brilliant debut as an adult competitor after a glorious final run in juniors, giving people a taste of what he can do but without giving them a chance to become sated or inured to his charms.

The ice is _his_ , and he is going to cherish his rule for as long as he can make it last.

Which means, unfortunately, that he'll have to change things.

He knows as he stares at his jawline in the mirror, running a razor over hair that is too light a color to really show up. If he doesn't do something on his own, someone will make a comment, and Victor hates being corralled into decisions.

He waits until the season's over and cuts his hair so short it's almost a buzz-cut. It looks ridiculous, but that's all right. It's _supposed_ to look ridiculous—jarring, shocking, _surprising_.

By the time the season rolls around again Victor's hair has grown out to a respectable length, and he glides onto the ice the graceful prince, ready to conquer his kingdom. His routines are just a little bit harder, his movements just a little bit harsher and more masculine.

The cheering when he's done is just as strong as it was at his debut, and Victor isn't surprised when the scores come up to see that he beat his own record to set a new one.

The conquering prince controls his life no matter what tricks his body has in store.

XXX

_Love_ is being seventeen years old and the monster that his government is trying desperately to protect the people against.

Most of his physical pleasure and experience comes from his own hand. It's safer that way. It leaves him in control of the situation, able to imagine whatever— _whoever—_ he wants without fear of retribution or reprisal.

He isn't the only one like this. He knows that there are others—has a vague idea, even, who those _others_ are. A few are open about it, but those are mainly ones from countries that his own denounces as degenerate and imperialistic, and he knows better than to take their experiences as an example to follow for his own life. (He knows that even for those whose countries supposedly protect them it isn't always easy, judges being a bit too harsh, audiences being uncertain of their responses.)

It's better to just do what everyone else does, except like with most things Victor does it _better_. He uses his charm to his advantage, flirting with everyone, every _thing_ , making a glamorous game out of the whole potential fiasco. He accepts gifts from male and female admirers with the same grand gestures and easy aplomb that people have come to expect from him. He always maintains a certain _distance_ , a certain _performance_ , but what part of his life isn't performance?

He likes being on the ice best. When he's on the ice, he is the lord and architect of the universe, telling stories to a soundtrack of his choice. When he's off the ice he has to play within others' carefully orchestrated and written parts, and he has always chafed at someone else ruling him.

There are ways he could work around the issue. There are sites and apps designed specifically for people like him—people who want what they know they shouldn't, who will require a bit of anonymity to shield themselves. He toys with the idea of using them, but is never quite desperate enough.

Instead he gives his virginity to a competitor, a German just a year older than him. The man is gorgeous, more masculine than Victor but still built in the proper skater's vein. His muscles are taut under Victor's hands, trembling even more than they had at the end of his free skate, and his mouth seems eager to make up for defeat on the ice through being dominant in the sheets. Victor lets him, body buzzing with too much eagerness for worry to wend its way through until the next morning.

He spends the next month wondering if competitive rivalry will turn a pleasant evening into a point of blackmail. When it doesn't Victor relaxes, just a bit.

He will never have love like others can have—love that sits besides him in the kiss-and-cry, that accepts dramatic proposals after impressive wins. He will have himself and his dreams and the occasional quick fling, his smile and his medals and his cat-clever tongue.

Given everything else in his life, it should be enough.

XXX

_Life_ is being twenty-seven and going from depressed with the whole world to thrilled about the possibilities the future holds.

He shouldn't be depressed. He knows that even as he holds Makkachin close and tries to summon up a spark of excitement for the new skating season that he's supposed to be prepping for. No matter what he does it doesn't seem to want to come, though. Music that he had been toying with all last year, thinking _this could be interesting_ , leaves his chest feeling cold and empty now.

If he can't get _himself_ worked up about what he wants to do, how in the world is he supposed to get _others_ worked up?

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions?" Victor raises both Makkachin's ears, rubbing just right at their bases.

Giving a little bark of pleasure, Makkachin darts his head forward, his tongue flicking over Victor's face in a speed-wash.

Victor laughs, pushing the dog away until he stops licking and then pulling him into a tight hug. Perhaps he should think about using the _Agape_ song, turning it into a tribute to his furry friend. After all, it seems like Makkachin's one of the few things in the world that can make him really _feel_ something right now.

Instead he turns on his computer, browsing through his e-mail and messaging systems. He knows himself too well. The little spark of excitement Makkachin had elicited won't last long enough to make something worthwhile.

What he sees when he clicks on the video that over a dozen people have already linked him to... well, maybe that will help get a more lasting fire burning inside him.

It's not that he's afraid of failure—though he would rather burn out spectacularly than slowly fade away, his body no longer quite able to keep up with the talented new blood that's rising through the ranks. It hasn't happened yet—he can still hit all his quads, though he's had to be more careful about where he puts them in his routines the last two years. It's something everyone _knows_ is going to happen, though, from the announcers who make it a point to discuss both how impressive his career has been so far and how he's older than almost everyone else on the ice to the bloggers who wonder if he'll apply for another Olympics to the younger skaters clamoring for a chance to be best.

Perhaps stopping when he's still at his peak is the most surprising thing he can do. And though he had forgotten he promised Yurio a choreographed program, he's glad that the young man reminds him, because designing a program for _others_ is much more fun than working on his own.

At least... it's much more fun until both Yuuri and Yuri smash his records.

Life is watching the people you love grow and change, and finding in that growth a reason to keep pushing yourself.

At least for a little bit longer, at any rate.

XXX

_Love_ is being twenty-seven and finally finding someone who completes him.

Yuuri is almost the complete opposite of Victor. He's shy in a way Victor can never imagine being, his cultural heritage making him seem almost reticent when compared to many of the grandiose personalities that fill the skating world. He has issues with anxiety that, try as he might, Victor can't quite understand.

A lack of understanding doesn't mean there's no way he can help, though. He finds that out quickly, though it doesn't stop a series of miscommunications throughout the rest of the season.

It doesn't matter. For the first time in his life, Victor realizes that it really, truly doesn't matter. It's not the _persona_ of Victor that Yuuri loves, after all, though that had been what drew them together in the first place; it's the _person_.

Victor who forgets that he made promises, because the spark of inspiration that led to them seems to fade far too quickly.

Victor whose hair is starting to thin, leading to a bald spot that thankfully only shows from certain angles.

Victor who doesn't know what it is he wants to _do_ with his life now that he's done what he wanted on the ice, and Victor who is both proud and jealous to see his records smashed by the very people he knew had the talent to do it—the people he _helped_ do it.

There are issues, of course. What relationship _doesn't_ have issues? But they're not the issues a younger Victor would have expected. Things are getting better, slowly, especially in communities as international by nature as the skating one. Yuuri's friend Phichit thinks they're the cutest couple in the world. The rest of their friends and acquaintances are too fixated on what Victor's plans for the future are and whether or not Yuuri's going to keep skating to care all that much whether they have rings, vows, or a wedding.

Sometimes, maybe, it's good to be older. Sometimes it's good to have succeeded, because it means there's nothing that can be taken away—because it provides a buffer for him to _do_ this, to experience _love_ as he's always wanted it.

"You're being very quiet." Yuuri murmurs the words sleepily into Victor's hair.

Victor presses a kiss to Yuuri's cheek. "Just thinking."

Yuuri smiles up at him, squinting without his glasses. "Thinking about what?"

"You. Me. Where we're going." Victor takes Yuuri's hand and kisses the gold band there. "What we'll do when we get there."

Yuuri takes Victor's hand in turn, pressing a return kiss to Victor's ring. "We'll skate. Until we can't. And then we'll go from there."

"You know what?" Victor rolls so that he's straddling Yuuri, causing Yuuri to make a startled little _squeak_ and blush red. "I think that's the best idea in the whole world."

He'd believed, once, that _love_ couldn't coexist with everything else he wanted in life.

He's glad to learn, finally, that he was completely wrong.

XXX

_Life_ is being thirty-seven and living in a foreign country.

They could have stayed in Russia. There had certainly been enough offers of work for Victor from various rinks. He's good, and everyone knows he's good, and it would have been easy to take up coaching, settle down... pretend he isn't married to the man he loves.

Things aren't perfect in Japan. All of Tokyo now recognizes same-sex marriages, though they aren't called that, but change is slower coming to the provinces. They're a different _kind_ of difficult out here—not so much a condemnation of what they are and what they do as a wish that they would _also_ marry women, have children.

As with so many other things in life, being successful makes it easier. They are both superstars, now. Anywhere else in the world Victor would be the more recognized one, but Yuuri is the hometown hero, the defender and exemplar of Japanese honor in the skating world, and his people love him dearly.

It takes some getting used to, but Victor finds he doesn't mind. It's actually kind of sweet watching Yuuri grow comfortable in his role as mentor and old star. A role that Victor shares, the two of them coaching the next generation of skaters to beat all their records.

It doesn't sting as much to think about, now—the idea that he'll one day be eclipsed by others. Is that because he's older? Because he's had two successful runs on the ice that ended when _he_ wanted it to end? Or because there's so much else to his life now?

"Leg straight, Akiko." Victor calls to the girl he's coaching. She won't ever be a superstar, he doesn't think, but her parents have the money and she enjoys the ice, so he'll do what he can to teach her what she needs to know. "You're the arrow, swift and sure."

His Japanese has improved in leaps and bounds since they moved here permanently. Not that he wasn't practicing before—he wants to be able to talk with Yuuri in his native tongue. There's something about living in a country that makes it easier to pick up on the language, though.

Akiko's mother comes to pick her up, and Victor goes through the usual ritual of greeting, bowing, and enthusing over the child and her upcoming events. He knows he doesn't do everything perfectly, but it doesn't matter. They give _gaijin_ , especially famous _gaijin_ , a lot more leeway than they do their own people.

Victor's next student is a boy named Rei, and he has a bit more potential. He reminds Victor a little of Yuuri—quiet, contemplative, more solidly built than many of those who go into competitive skating. He always listens intently to Victor's comments, and does his best to follow instructions.

Then the day is gone, the lights turned down in the rink, and Victor can go _home_ , to his husband and his dog and his _life_.

There's no better feeling in the world.

XXX

_Love_ is being thirty-seven and renewing his vows with a red-faced, stuttering Yuuri.

It's only been five years since they were officially wed, but Victor doesn't care. Things are different now, and he wanted to do something special, something _romantic_ , and this definitely fits.

"That's not how you're supposed to tie it." Yuuri's exasperation finally bleeds out into his voice as he comes over to help Victor with his kimono.

Victor holds his arms out to the side, letting Yuuri fuss and fret with the fabric until it's sitting to his contentment. "Maybe I just like having you dress me up."

Even after all these years Yuuri still blushes so easily. He tilts his head down, his hands trailing over Victor's... obi? Yes, Victor's fairly certain that's what the band of cloth wrapped around his middle is. "I think there's a lot of things that you like. And I don't mind providing most of them."

Cupping Yuuri's face, Victor pulls him in for a gentle, lingering kiss. "You do it with such class and grace."

Yuuri's flush spreads, his neck warm beneath Victor's hand, but his expression is more quiet amusement than actual embarrassment or irritation. "I've had a good coach."

Victor can't help but laugh, a surprised, rolling chuckle of sound as he pulls Yuuri into a fiercer kiss.

Yuuri's hands find his shoulders, push him back with a laugh. "Stop that! I just got us both dressed properly. Don't ruin it until after the ceremony."

"If you insist." Victor returns his hands to his own sides with a show of reluctance. "Though we could always just skip the ceremony..."

"And disappoint the audience?" Yuuri's fingers flick against Victor's nose. "I know you wouldn't actually want to do that."

"No." Victor sighs. "Though it's highly tempting, I wouldn't."

"You're not..." Yuuri's expression changes, becoming more guarded and closed off. "If you're regretting any of this..." Yuuri's fingers toy with the ring on his left hand. "Any of it at all..."

Taking Yuuri's hand in his, Victor kisses the simple gold band. "I don't regret one day, one minute, one _second_ I've spent with you. And this is going to be lovely. I'm glad to celebrate _us_ via your culture, and give everyone who couldn't fly out to the actual wedding a chance to celebrate."

"And next time we'll do something in Russia, right?" Yuuri is gentle as he takes Victor's hand, returning the kiss to his ring. "Or... at least something Russian flavored?"

Victor considers for several long seconds and then nods. "Yes. I think I'd like that."

The monk comes to guide them out for the ceremony, and Victor follows Yuuri's lead.

He's been with this man for a decade. Things aren't perfect—things have never been perfect, though how much he _notices_ the imperfections seems to change as he does. But they don't have to be perfect.

They're _alive_ and they're in _love_ , and that counts for more than all the medals or silly laws in the world.


End file.
